


Sex Tape

by bresby



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Masturbation, Other, less cracky than it sounds, s4 typical Martin angst, tape recorders are pushy and don't understand personal boundaries, the tape recorders like Martin but what if they liked him liked him, this has 100 percent more feels than I expected it to, voyeurism kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28857636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bresby/pseuds/bresby
Summary: Despite all the time Martin has been alone recently, he hasn't really had much of a chance for alone time in the traditional sense. When he finally gets the opportunity, a very persistent tape recorder insists on keeping him company.Alternatively: in which the author has feelings about the tape recorders liking Martin.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tape Recorder
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	Sex Tape

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Lith (Ixempt) for the beta!
> 
> Mild content warning for the tape recorders refusing to go away when Martin first asks aka the tape recorders have bad consent etiquette.

Martin sighed, sinking down onto his bed and wiping sweat off his brow. Glancing around, he took in the room with a distant, faint curiosity. He hardly recognized this shitty flat anymore — the sagging chairs and chipped paint. A shelf of books quickly accumulating dust. A little figurine of a dog from back when he was trying to make the place feel homey. Between the attacks on the institute and Peter’s demands on his time, he saw more of the inside of Elias’s office than anywhere else these days. 

He wondered if it was intentional on Peter’s part. Feeling like a stranger in his own home certainly made him lonelier. When even had he been here last? Did it matter? He hoped he hadn’t left anything perishable in the fridge.

While lost in his thoughts, he heard an all-to-familiar _click._

He turned and stared at the recorder on his bedside table in disbelief.

 **“** What, seriously? Now? This is the first time I’ve slept in my own bed in god knows how long. Don’t tell me I’m about to be attacked by a horrible flesh monster.”

That…was actually not that improbable. He forced himself to his feet. His legs were stiff and his back ached; he was far too young to feel so old. With a sigh, he checked the flat. But he could see nothing from either the peephole in his door or outside his window, and though he strained to listen, no sound approached. He checked in the closets and under the furniture, but everything looked okay there too. No monsters, no meat, no bugs, no statements. Just a sad flat that had his name on the lease.

“Peter, if you are about to pop out of the Lonely right now I’m really not in the mood,” he called out to the ceiling. Silence. Typical.

He probably should head back to the institute for the night just in case, but honestly right now he couldn’t be arsed. 

“Er, sorry. It isn’t that I mind your company, but I don’t think I have anything interesting for you tonight, and I am a bit tired,” he said as he clicked off the recorder.

He undid the top button on his shirt. The recorder instantly clicked back on. Martin almost thought it sounded… eager. 

“O...kay then. Guess you are staying on. Care to tell me what all this is about?” He gave the recorder an expectant look. It rather predictably stayed silent. 

“Not sure how you could answer anyway. Morse code, maybe? Secret messages when the tapes are played backwards?” Again, nothing.

Martin shrugged. “Suit yourself.” But no, he did not want his nocturnal habits recorded. No matter how friendly the tape recorder seemed.

“Actually, wait. Look. I honestly appreciate having some company that doesn’t _technically_ break Peter’s rules. But you really weren’t part of my plans for tonight. I wanted, er, some alone time, _if_ _you know what I mean_. Although I guess technically it’s always alone time for me now…” He huffed out a half-hearted laugh.

He tried once more to click it off, and it clicked instantly back on. What should he do? He knew the thought was absurd, but he didn’t want to…offend the recorder too much.

After all, he’d already isolated himself from so many damn people. And that didn’t even hurt that much anymore, except for when it did. So no, he didn’t want to piss off the only being he routinely saw and also mostly liked. He paced back and forth in the small space, gesturing with his hands. Maybe he could reason with it?

Of course, he could always just not wank tonight. But he wanted to, dammit.

“This really can’t be exciting for you. I mean, you tend to appear for the spooky stuff, right? Or the grand, climactic, emotionally charged conversations. Well, absolutely none of that is on the menu for tonight. All I was planning on this evening was having a nice quiet wank and then being unconscious for the next 8 hours. So, erm, I am going to turn you off again, and I’m asking you to stay off. I...er...I don’t think you really care about that sort of thing anyway. Do you?”

He heard another click from behind him, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Then, he turned back to see that not only was the recorder still running, it was now _on his bed._

What. The. Fuck. 

Martin dithered for a moment over what to do. Tape recorder or not, this was not okay. It clearly understood him, so it could damn well understand the concept of consent. He had almost started to tell it off when he stopped…

And thought _what the hell._

He knew this probably wasn’t a great idea, but he was very, very lonely. And it turns out that giving yourself to the eldritch god of depression? Was kind of bad for your libido. But this whole scenario had him more turned on than he’d been in ages — his breath already slightly shaky, his throat tight, and his cock quite insistent that it wanted attention.

 _Best not examine that too much_ , he thought.

“Fine… fine. If you want a show that badly, I guess I’ll oblige you. But this really is beyond the pale in terms of violating my boundaries. And I work for an institute dedicated to the god of creepy voyeurism. I would know. Do you understand that?” 

The recorder just sat there expectantly beside his pillow. He considered it. 

“Still, there’s not exactly anything I can do for you. At the very least, anything involving bodily fluids would end badly for you, right? But then again…I guess you’ve always been good with just listening to everything else.” He gave the recorder a companionable pat. Then, the situation sunk in. This whole thing was absurd.

Martin fought a valiant battle against the giggle fit bubbling up inside him, but it easily won. Christ, it had been ages since he’d felt this light-hearted. This...this.... how was this his life now?

He started again to unbutton his shirt, humming to himself absent-mindedly. The recorder quickly clicked on and off as if to get his attention. Did it sound irritated? Wasn’t this what it wanted?

“What’s wrong… oh, right. Duh. You can’t see what’s going on, can you? Okay, give me a second…”

He started again, this time narrating his actions.

“So, I’m taking off my shirt now. It’s a white button down, and I hate it. You’d think I could wear whatever I wanted since I go most days without seeing anyone, but no, I’m _management_ now. I have to be _professional_. And apparently professional means uncomfortable.”

The recorder couldn’t be giving him an unimpressed look. It couldn’t be giving him looks at all. So why did he feel like it was judging him? Martin’s face grew hot.

“Hey! That’s not fair. Trying to give an audio strip tease? Way harder than it sounds. You should try it before you judge.” 

Then, he continued, “So, I’ve undone my shirt and thrown it on the floor. Just bare chest and trousers now. I’m not much to look at, but then again, I guess that doesn’t mean much to you.” 

He ran his hands over his torso and shivered. The knowledge he was being recorded made every touch electric. “It’s hot as hell in here, but my nipples are hard. This is definitely doing it for me. So, um, good job, I guess?” He gave the recorder a thumbs up, then spent a few moments playing with his nipples, pinching and caressing them in turn.

“Okay, I’m taking my belt off now. Um, pushing down my trousers and kicking them off ….” He wondered if the tape was catching the sounds of him jumping around trying not to fall flat on his face.

“I kind of like having some clothes on the floor. Makes it feel like someone actually lives here now…” he trailed off, staring at the pile of clothes. Wondering what it might look like to have another person’s joining them. Did the thought make him happy? Sad? Anything at all? 

There was more impatient clicking. Right. He shook himself out of it — he needed to stay on topic. After all, the recorder was waiting. “So now I’m down to my boxers. They’re the ones with little smiley faces because I was not expecting to have to impress someone when I woke up this morning. Sorry if that kills the mood a bit.”

The recorder didn’t respond, but at the same time, Martin _felt_ its attention on him. Its interest.

“I’m palming myself through my boxers now. It feels like all the heat in this room is underneath my hand and no amount of touching could possibly be enough. I’m definitely hard already. I’m going to try to make this last, but it’s been a while. You know?

I’m losing the boxers and getting back on the bed. Um, I’m right next to you now. You're actually touching my side.” The recorder was cool and hard. Unmoving. But somehow it still provided a constant, comforting presence. 

“Er, a description, I guess. I’m half propped up on one elbow and my legs are bent and spread. I’m putting myself on display a bit.” He gestured broadly with his free hand. His tone was a bit bashful, but he felt oddly smug. He ran one hand lightly over his thighs and stomach, purposefully just missing his cock. Then, he repeated the motion while dragging his fingernails across his flesh, scratching hard enough that hopefully the tape would pick up the sound. It left red marks on his skin.

“God, this isn't my normal routine at all. Normally, I’m just trying to be as quick as possible. Used to trying to be quiet too, even if I don’t have to be anymore. But it feels nice to take the time and tease myself a bit.

Still, I wish I could do this properly. What even would make this sound better? A vibrator maybe, where you could hear the different settings. A toy that would let you hear the sound of thrusting. Hell, I bet you’d like it if I could tie myself up so you could hear me struggling. Don’t have stuff for any of that though, so you’ve just got me and my hand.”

He spat on said hand, then spent a few moments playing with his balls. He shuddered.

“It’s...um…getting a bit harder to keep this going. Can’t quite catch my breath. I mean, I guess some people do this all the...all the time. Some people make a career out of it. But it feels too good. It’s too...too much. Can’t concentrate on the words.”

Finally, he gripped his cock, keeping his movements slow, no matter how much he wanted to come right this second. Every stroke proved more torturous than the last.

“I...hope you like the sounds though.” He groaned, perhaps a bit theatrically. Nearly at the edge, he forced himself to stop for a moment. For a moment, he thought he might just come untouched anyway. He took several slow breaths, trying to focus anywhere but his cock.

Turning his head to the side, he stared straight down at the recorder. Gripped by a sudden impulse, he leaned down to give it a little kiss. 

Embarrassed, he quickly turned away and started moving his hand again. 

“Ugh, thank you. Thanks...fucking needed this tonight, glad you…” he trailed off, lost in the growing heat. Every muscle in his body tensed further. Once again, he brought himself right to the point he thought he might explode and then gripped his throbbing cock hard at the base, trying to hold back. It took him several moments to calm back down.

“Can’t pull back again, I don’t think,” he muttered. Still, he moved his hand as slowly as he could bear.

“I guess anyone could find this tape later. No clue where it will end up. Jon already used to complain so much about statements being misfiled. I can just imagine his face if he came across this….” 

The image of Jon frowning slightly and sarcastically wondering who thought this tape would be a good addition to the archive came to mind. _No, don’t think about Jon_ , he scolded himself. _It’s too painful._ No, he couldn’t go down that train of thought. He needed a fantasy, any other fantasy...

“Any...anyone could find this really. I...I like…”

Martin imagined the tape being found by a complete stranger doing some research in the archives. Maybe it would get passed around from person to person, from archives to artifact storage to research, with a little sticky note saying “don’t listen in public” on it. Maybe people would break that rule, listening together and giggling. Would some of them find it arousing? Would they need to run off to take care of themselves, hiding in the toilets at the institute?

Would they see him, hear him, just for a moment? Would they pass him in the halls and smirk, knowing exactly what he sounded like when he came? 

Why did that thought appeal so much?

“I...close. I...ugh.” He kept his eyes focused on the recorder and moved his hand faster and faster. He wanted a name to scream, but he had none to give. Instead, every grunt and moan he normally restrained flowed freely from his lips until he spilled all over his stomach. He lay back completely and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing his breath to return to normal.

After a moment, he continued chatting with the recorder, stroking it idly.

“I wouldn’t really want that, you know. All those things I was thinking about. I mean, that would be embarrassing, am I right? Everyone hearing this? I…it was just a passing fancy. People think of all sorts of weird things in the moment. I’m...honestly good with how things are now. It’s peaceful. Just me, and sometimes you I guess. No, I’ve got this. We’ve got this. 

I’m liking it on my own, stray thoughts be damned, and I need to be doing what I’m doing. I...I am glad you are here with me though. Whatever you are.” He smiled. 

Then, Martin heard a gentle click and felt an emptiness under his hand. When he opened his eyes, the recorder was nowhere to be found. His heart sank.

“Um, right. I guess I should have expected that. Next on the agenda — teach you some better bedside manners,” he joked, but it rang hollow.

He tried to wrap himself with the emptiness that had become his refuge. In that blank, miserable, blissful loneliness. Instead, he found himself choking back tears. Damn recorder. 

“Thank you,” he whispered once more to the air. 


End file.
